


this one time at band camp

by harinezumi_kun



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 05:27:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/439645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harinezumi_kun/pseuds/harinezumi_kun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>aiba plays the saxophone and nino has a dirty mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this one time at band camp

**Author's Note:**

> this was supposed to be a 500 word drabble and look what happened ;p for [rainbowfilling](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/rainbowfilling)! dedicated to elfie and kino, our noble founders, araanaz9 for being the real mastermind behind this story, and natalie because i promised her superhero!aimiya but wrote this instead :)

Nino hates camping. Not that band camp is anything like real camping, as it is held on the campus of the local junior college instead of out in the woods and everyone sleeps in the dorms instead of in cabins, but it is still just about the lamest thing Nino can imagine doing with his summer. Playing the drum had seemed like a pretty okay hobby to start out with, but then he had let his mother bully him into marching band and the whole thing just went downhill from there. 

He had considered the fact that he managed to drag Aiba down with him the only upside to the whole debacle, but now he’s starting to see the negative aspects of that, too. Namely, having to watch Aiba play the saxophone all day everyday without getting a hard-on in front of the whole band.

Originally, this is not something Nino would have ever in a million years considered a turn-on, especially coming from Aiba-“Hey, Nino, you know what ‘sax’ sounds like, right?” wink wink, nudge nudge-Masaki. But, puffed-out balloon cheeks aside, it’s really kind of sexy. The way Aiba’s lips close around the mouthpiece, and how his eyes sort of half-close, and they’re outside in the heat so he’s sweaty with little bits of hair sticking to his forehead, and he has to lick the reed all the time for God’s sake! Nino is sixteen and has only ever thought of gender as an accessory, so it doesn’t take long for him to start imagining Aiba doing other things with his lips and tongue that make Nino have to excuse himself quickly from conversations.

Nino could handle it, maybe, could get through three weeks of this if it weren’t for (and here’s another reason he hates camp) having to share a room with three other boys. There are hardly any chances to be alone in this stupid camp and Aiba is in the bunk right under his and he’s always got to be moving around and breathing in his sleep, why he can’t just sleep like a normal person, quietly and without moving (“I don’t think normal people do sleep like that,” Ohno ventures when Nino accidentally brings it up) Nino will never know, but basically he’s going crazy.

So here he is now, on a night like any other, lying on his back and staring up at the ceiling while trying to fall asleep to the sound of Sho and Ohno snoring away in the bunks across the room. Aiba is being oddly quiet tonight, which Nino tells himself he is grateful for even as his ears strain for the slightest noise from the bed below him. Then, as he is finally about to drift off, there is a rustling from Aiba’s bunk. And then the sound of bare feet hitting the floor. Nino’s brows furrow at that, but then he can feel the bed shift with the weight of someone climbing the ladder and before he has time to process what’s happening, Aiba has crawled into his bed and stretched out next to him, watching him intently from just a few inches away.

“Are you asleep?” Aiba asks in a scratchy whisper.

“Yes,” Nino says, rolling away pointedly. Aiba just pulls him back over, and Nino lets out a little _oof_.

“You are not,” Aiba says, a smile in his voice. Then: “What’s wrong, Nino?”

“What are you talking about?” Nino asks, feigning annoyance when really he’s thinking _“Oh crap”_.

“With you, recently,” Aiba clarifies. “You seem really distracted, and you’re always running off to the bathroom.”

Nino can already tell by the overly innocent tone of Aiba’s voice that the other boy knows what’s wrong with Nino, or at least has very strong suspicion, but he continues to avoid the question.

“Whatever. I’m not. I don’t.”

“You are and you do,” Aiba insists. “I know you, Nino, you’re a camel, and if you’re not going to the bathroom to pee, then you’re either throwing up or whacking off.”

“Shut up!” Nino hisses, giving Aiba a smack even though he knows the other two occupants of the room could sleep through World War Three.

“I knew it!” Aiba says triumphantly. “You _are_ whacking off! Who’s the crush, then? Haruka, that flutist? No, Chizuru! Or, oh, I know, that Jun kid in the drumline with you? He’s cute, right?”

“He’s annoying!” Nino snaps back, crossing his arms, unable to get any farther from Aiba without falling out of the bed.

“It’s not Sho-chan or Ohno, though, right?” Aiba presses.

“As if,” Nino snorts. “Those two dorks have about as much sex appeal as a tuba.”

“Arguable,” Aiba says, shrugging, and Nino’s not sure if Aiba wants to argue the sexiness of their roommates or of a tuba.

“Get out of my bed,” Nino whines, giving Aiba a kick in the shins that has absolutely no effect except to make Aiba pin Nino’s legs to the bed with one of his own to prevent more kicking.

“Oh, wait!” Aiba says suddenly, sitting up a little so he can look down at Nino. “Is it me?”

In the one, long moment Nino has in which to decide how to answer, he gets stuck debating over an emphatic denial or derisive laughter and ends up not saying anything at all. In the darkness, Nino can just barely see how Aiba blinks in surprise.

“Wait, really?” 

Nino groans and covers his face with his hands, trying—again, ineffectually—to turn away.

“Hey, Nino, wait! Seriously, me?”

“This is so embarrassing,” Nino says by way of answer.

“Why’s it embarrassing?” Aiba wants to know, sounding nothing but curious.

“Because it’s _you_ ,” Nino says, clarifying when Aiba tilts his head: “You’re my best friend.”

Aiba smiles at that, Nino can hear it in his voice even if he can’t properly see him. “Thanks, Nino.”

Nino groans again, curling into a ball of embarrassment, forcing Aiba back against the wall. “You just found out I’m getting off while thinking about you and you say ‘thanks’?”

“I said ‘thanks’ ‘cause you said I was your best friend,” Aiba corrects needlessly. “But, you know, thanks for the other thing, too.”

Nino punches him in the shoulder.

“Ow,” Aiba says distractedly. Then: “Hey, Nino. What is it, about me?”

“What?” 

“That turns you on,” Aiba continues, and something in his voice changes now—still curious, but breathier, more excited, and Nino feels a little jolt of heat low in his belly.

“We are not having this conversation,” Nino returns, pushing Aiba away even though there’s nowhere for him to go. “Seriously, get out of my bed.”

But instead of going, Aiba catches Nino’s wrists in his hands, just holding them there, between their chests.

“Come on, Nino,” he says, low and intent, “tell me.”

Things are different in the dark. Nino can hardly see three inches in front of his face, but he can hear Aiba’s whispering breaths, feel where their legs are tangled and Aiba’s fingers gentle but so warm on his wrists. If it were daytime, if Nino could see properly, think properly, he would just tell Aiba to get out again, or Nino would leave himself, or anything except what he does now—takes a quick, stuttering breath, and tells him.

“Saxophone,” is all he manages.

“Saxophone?” Aiba repeats, giggling a little in that high pitched hyena way of his that should not be sexy at all.

“When—when you play it,” Nino tries again. “And your mouth, when you—and then you’re always licking it and—” But Nino cuts himself off, because this is already the most embarrassing moment of his life so far, and he can feel his limbs starting to tremble and his breaths start to shake and he’s going to have to excuse himself to the bathroom in a minute if Aiba doesn’t get out.

But Aiba just makes a thoughtful _hmmm_ ing sound, and then he’s moving closer, close enough that Nino can feel Aiba’s hair against his face, and the hot wash of Aiba’s breath when the other boy speaks.

“You like my mouth, Nino?”

Nino just lets out a sharp pant, something that might have been a whimper if it were any louder.

“Thinking about me, using my mouth on…your _instrument_?”

“GET OUT!” Nino says as loudly as he dares, pushing Aiba in earnest this time, but the other boy is just laughing giddily, and he wraps himself around Nino, and Nino sucks in a sharp breath when he feels Aiba’s half-hard erection against his hip.

“Pervert,” Nino says into Aiba’s hair, and somehow he already has his arms around Aiba’s neck. “Weirdo pervert. How can you make horrible jokes like that when you’re already hard?”

“Hey, Nino,” Aiba says instead of answering Nino’s question. “Can I kiss you?”

“I—what?” Nino is having a hard time thinking straight because one of Aiba’s hands has already slid up under his t-shirt, long fingers spreading against the small of his back. “Um. Yeah. Sure.”

It’s not like Nino’s never kissed anyone before, but this is Aiba—Aiba who he’s known his whole life, who knows him so well already, who kisses him like it is the first time, soft and testing. Nino kisses back a little harder, lets Aiba know it’s okay, but somehow is not ready for it at all when Aiba’s tongue dips into his mouth. Nino lets out a soft, startled moan, and feels Aiba smiling against him.

“Shhh,” Aiba says, like he cared at all about being quiet before now, and normally Nino would say something about it, but Aiba is kissing him again, swallowing the words, rolling his hips down into Nino’s and making him moan again, completely and utterly on purpose.

“Can’t be quiet,” Nino says, breathless, “if you keep doing that.”

“Sorry,” Aiba giggles, unrepentant, kissing Nino again and again, like he can’t stop now that he’s started. And that’s okay with Nino, really. He has spent the last three weeks staring at Aiba’s mouth after all, wondering what it felt like, what it tasted like, and now he knows—eager and salty-sweet, like senbei, like something Nino can’t name, indescribable and wonderful. Aiba kisses like he does everything: enthusiastically, using his tongue like he’s taking a careful inventory of every part of Nino’s mouth, but there’s a touch of sweetness and playfulness to it, some give and take, and he lets Nino push him back into the mattress when the younger boy gets impatient.

Then, one of Aiba’s hands moves from Nino’s back down to his hip, palming at the jut of bone there, flattening and pulling at the fabric of Nino’s boxers almost like a question.

“Nino,” Aiba breathes, and Nino is really starting to like the way Aiba says his name like that, like a whisper, right into Nino’s mouth, “do you want me to?”

“Huh?” Nino replies intelligently.

“Use my mouth,” Aiba says, “on you.”

And as he speaks Aiba moves his hand, cupping Nino through his shorts, and Nino cannot help but give a loud, startled “ _Oh!_ ” Aiba chuckles smugly, but then they both freeze at the sound of a grunt and rustle from across the room.

“Nino?” comes Ohno’s fuzzy, sleep-filled voice.

Nino stares wide-eyed at Aiba and doesn’t know if he should respond, so he just keeps quiet, glaring at Aiba who is shaking with silent laughter.

“Nino,” Ohno says again, slurring awfully, “d’you wan’ some ‘tato chips?”

This bizarre statement is followed almost immediately by a very loud snore, and Nino lets out a shaky breath of relief.

“Stop laughing,” he hisses peevishly at Aiba, and when the other boy doesn’t obey, Nino skips the niceties and slides his hand straight into Aiba’s pajama pants to take a firm hold of his cock.

Now it’s Aiba’s turn for an “ _Oh!_ ”, surprised and a bit breathless. Nino moves his hand experimentally, feels his own erection throb at the way Aiba’s hips arch into the touch, how Aiba’s cock is already wet at the tip, at the stuttering whine Aiba lets out when Nino swipes his thumb across the head to spread the wetness around. It’s a little overwhelming, a little amazing, to know that Aiba’s making those noises because of him, because of Nino, but then Aiba’s hand is at his wrist again, stilling him.

“Don’t,” Aiba breathes roughly, extracting Nino’s hand. “Gonna come if you—”

“So?” Nino says, a bit smug himself now. “Is that a problem?”

Aiba lets out a little chuff of laughter. “I asked you a question, remember?” There’s a pause as he lets Nino think about that. “Do you want me to?”

“I—” Nino doesn’t know what to do with his hand suddenly, which had been moving back towards the waistband of Aiba’s pants. Yes, he wants him to, of course he does. “Is—will you?”

Aiba nods, rustling against the sheets, makes a soft _mm-hmm_ noise and leans forward for a kiss, slow and careful and somehow reassuring. He puts Nino’s hands on his shoulders and begins to slide down Nino’s body.

Nino knows that Aiba gets more sex than him, knows that Aiba is willing to try just about anything with anybody, but his experience shows in the way he takes his time with every inch of Nino’s skin, starting at his neck, pushing Nino’s t-shirt up and out of the way to run his hands across Nino’s chest. When Aiba’s thumbs flick over his nipples, Nino almost cries out again, but slaps a hand over his own mouth to stop the sound. It’s the hand he used on Aiba, he realizes by the smell, the tackiness of it, but he doesn’t care because now Aiba’s tongue is on his nipples and Nino never knew what a turn on that was until right this very second.

Aiba keeps going, down and down, kissing his way down Nino’s ribs, sliding his hands under the waistband of Nino’s boxers to ease them off—and Nino hesitates here, stops Aiba’s hand, because for a moment he is scared. Not that he’s never been naked with Aiba, but he’s never been naked and having sex with Aiba, with Aiba about to—

“It’s okay,” Aiba whispers, cheating by rubbing his cheek against the front of Nino’s pants. “It’s me.”

And Nino arches up with a muffled “Oh”, maybe the beginnings of an “okay”, but it doesn’t matter because that’s what Aiba takes it for, and he finishes taking Nino’s pants off the rest of the way. Nino looks down, and is simultaneously glad for and frustrated by how little he can see, because he knows Aiba is situated between his legs, staring up at him, probably smiling like an idiot. At the first touch of Aiba’s fingers around the base of his erection, Nino almost loses it he’s already so worked up.

“Shhh,” Aiba says again, and Nino can feel the breath of it all along the underside of his cock. He only has a moment to appreciate it before Aiba licks a broad stripe from base to tip, then closes his lips around the head.

“Oh,” Nino says into his hand, and “oh, ye—Aiba— _ah_!” Because nothing he had imagined could ever compare to this, and he has to be quiet, he has to, but oh. He can’t see anything, because of the dark and because he has his eyes screwed shut and his head flung back against the pillow, but he can imagine it: the bob of Aiba’s head, the muscles in his throat working, his cheeks hollowing and his eyelashes fluttering there, and then maybe he would look up, straight into Nino’s eyes and—

“Aiba,” Nino chokes out, trying to warn him, “I’m gonna—”

But Aiba just hums and Nino slides deeper and _how is Aiba doing that_ , and then Nino is coming in Aiba’s mouth, half-formed curses behind his hand and fireworks behind his eyelids.

A few moments later he feels Aiba let him go with a last little suck that is almost too much on his sensitized skin. Nino is still breathing hard when Aiba settles next to him again.

“You,” Nino says shakily, “you…you’ve done that before.”

“Maybe,” Aiba giggles, obviously pleased with himself.

“With who?” Nino demands.

“I’ll tell you when you’re older,” Aiba says, and before Nino can force the issue, Aiba presses himself close so Nino can feel how hard he is. “A little help?” he asks sweetly.

“Do it yourself,” Nino grumps, feeling sleepy and petulant, but then Aiba makes a wounded noise and starts sucking Nino’s neck, so Nino relents. He pushes Aiba’s pants down just far enough to get him out and wraps his hand around Aiba’s cock again, pumping him slowly, almost lazily, enjoying the soft sighs and moans Aiba makes against his shoulder. Eventually, though, Aiba gets impatient, tangling his own hand with Nino’s around his cock and speeding up the pace until he comes with a last little shuddering exhale.

They bicker quietly about cleaning up for a few minutes, but Aiba is already mostly asleep, so Nino gives up and resigns himself to being sticky.

“Are we dating now?” Nino wants to know, though his eyes are already drifting shut.

“Can’t friends give friends blow jobs?” Aiba says through a yawn. “Especially best friends?”

Nino’s brows furrow. “Isn’t that weird?”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. It just seems weird.”

“Go to sleep,” Aiba advises. So Nino does.

*

In the morning, he wakes with Aiba wrapped around him from behind, breathing into his hair, and Sho and Ohno with their chins propped on the edge of his bunk, smiling at him lasciviously.

“Good morning,” Sho sing-songs. “Sleep well?”

“I had a dream about you,” Ohno adds. “And potato chips.”

“Go away,” Nino groans, pulling the blankets up over his head.


End file.
